I really despise Billy Dee Williams for saying this in Mahogany, because he truly put fear in many people’s hearts – fear that’s been since passed on to generation after generation.

Let it be known that while I am often single, this post is not reeking of couple envy. It is however doused in frustration over some people who only seem to want to talk about relationships.

All the damn time.

Their relationships, whatever relationship they feel I should have (sweet, but stop), the relationships of others, and maybe your relationships, too, if you shared so much as a first initial of whoever it is you’re dating.

Why? Well, because no one wants to end up alone, right? Not being married or at least living in sin is like the worst thing ever?

That is according to those creepy Washington Post articles about black women being bound to a life of loneliness. There have also been articles printed across the pond about white women developing “Bridget Jones” disorder. You know, the same sad scenario only in a different color and fancier accent.

And when I’m not dodging questions about my dating life or entertaining diatribes about the dating life of others, I’m seeing posts all across the Web dedicated to everything relationships.

Who wants to get married? Why doesn’t he want to get married? Where can I find a boo? Why don’t I have a man? Will I ever get married? Will they?

Meanwhile, I’m a workaholic who is the product of an embittered marriage. Combined with the fact that I’ve never had a real boyfriend (I’ve dated, had someone I called a fake boyfriend, obsessed over someone I would push you into traffic if it meant I could have him, and been annoyed with others) and you can see how far having a relationship ranks on my list.

Kat Stacks is a simple, opportunistic, attention starved whore who thinks her crumbling vagina walls, loose jaw, and runteldat style of self-promotion is the key to fame and fortune.

Sadly, she’s sort of on to something. That is, if she were smarter than the average hooker – or at least half as smart as the Mrs. Garrett of tramps, Karrine Steffans. But she’s not so in the end, she won’t get as far as she’d like.

She may host “college nights” in D.C. (what the fuck, Washington) and collect a coin from World Star Hip Hop, but because she’s such an ignorant buzzard the chances of her developing an empire off several rappers skeeting down her throat like Mrs. Eddie Winslow are slim. Her chances of hitting the herpes lottery look promising, though.

With that in mind it’s understandable why so many would loathe such a loud, obnoxious, stupid piece of shit no matter how sad her story is.

Yet, over the course of days I’ve noticed that some people have been doing the most.

I like to think of myself as a pretty well mannered guy. I open doors for women when they let me, refer to women in certain settings as ma’am, and try my best to always be hospitable. As a southern boy I feel like not being a rude jackass is essential to my identity.

Of course, moving around a lot to various cities outside of the south over the years has certainly tested my principles. I’ve been reminded plenty of times by women not to refer to them as ma’am because it makes them feel old. Usually, the women who sass me over ma’am are indeed old and insecure, but no matter, as you wish…my lady.

Alright, ya’ll, haven’t reviewed a video in a while and since plenty have tried in recent days hours, I went ahead and lent my commentary to a couple.

As someone who monetarily supported Jazmine Sullivan with her debut album and is still hoping that she gets the acclaim she deserves, I have to say I don’t know what her people were thinking by selecting this as her first single.

The same can be said about the video. An 80s theme, shout outs to Nuvo, how 2009. Girl, we on Conjure (although I’ve never had it, but still) and Ciroc now — step ya cookies up!

This is kind of like her first video, only a better version of it.

Overall, though, the video is cute and I like the cameos from 80s rappers. Thank God Lil’ Kim was still on the playground likely chasing somebody else’s man then. We don’t need her mad at anyone else.

I like the homage to House Party and I do appreciate her showing us a little personality. Still, it didn’t really alter my opinion of the song. Jazmine has offered what’s essentially a dope mixtape track when she’s in need of an undeniable hit.

Maybe this song will ultimately do well because it’s aided by a number of familiar samples, but as someone who salivated over songs like “Lions, Tigers, & Bears” and “Bust Your Windows,” I have to say I’m kind of disappointed.

But, hey, I’m still probably going to buy the album.

For the seven of you who’ve watched Trey Songz: My Moment, you know that Trey thinks he has what it takes to be a big time actor.

To his credit, minus those ugly cries he gave us, he did alright in his video for “Yo Side of The Bed.”

This shit right here, though, is a little too much. I had to pause about a minute in to see if I could mentally count how many different expressions he gave in 60 seconds. I lost count around 97.

OK, let’s just skip to the part that matters: His shirt being off.

If this world were mine (shout out to Luther), I’d be able to make my fortune reading off the words on Trey Songz’ chest – you know, proofreading and shit. I can assure you I’d make the overtime worth his wild it so if anyone hears about such a position opening, I’ll pass my resume and whatever underwear is required.

That said, thank you, Tremaine, for giving your fans the money shot. It’s enough to make me forget that your acting coach is an R. Kelly fan and that you basically remade Usher’s video for “Confessions.”

First off, let me note that the other day I was on EW.com and tried really hard to listen to the single but halfway had to stop.

Not because it was bad, rather I instantly thought of piss. As in stained toilet seats, urinary tract deficiency, and that episode of Sex & the City where Carrie was dating that golden shower-loving politician.

It probably doesn’t help that I’ve been referring to R. Kelly as “Pissy” for the last six years or so, but you get me, right?

In my defense, I could’ve thought of worse – like those stupid blond braids he had for that even dumber song, “Hair Braider.” If Roger Troutman weren’t already dead that bullshit certainly would’ve killed him.

I will give it to this man in dying need of therapy and cranberry juice – he can “write” a good song (the functional illiterates don’t use pens, hence the quotation marks).

Most have forgotten that given the terrible offerings he’s been sending to radio in recent years, but back in his prime Pissy could deliver a decent song. This four-minute tribute to the 1960s is a nice example of such.

I’m not in love with the song, but I can see why some people will be.

Look, he creeps me out now, however, this video doesn’t have him making references to magic flutes that lure children to his den and it doesn’t look like he’s pretending to be an artist who is pretending to be him.

For the state of his career, these are all good signs.

I’m still calling him Pissy, though.

Alright so I’ve dropped my two pennies, I’d be much oblige if you left yours.

I believe that’s been my expression for a few days now. I think it’s what adults call the worries of working. Believe me, it’s overrated. As I get over that and myself, allow me to run ya’ll a couple of updates.

One, if you’re interested, I’m doing a radio interview for a Blog Talk Radio program called The Gay Agenda.

A reader was nice enough to reach out to me and after much delay (mainly my fault), I’m going to do the interview. Will be talking entertainment, blogging, politics and – gulp – me.

If you’re interested in listening in or sending questions, you can find information for all of that here.

I’m not really sure I have a gay agenda outside of the desire to be treated as if I don’t have a toe growing out of my ear and spreading Beyonce’s love so we’ll see how this conversation goes.

The write up for me sounds super duper nice. Almost too nice. I was referred to as an LGBT activist. One week I’m deemed a comedian, the next an activist. Maybe this is the path I’ll ultimately take but until then, I’m consider myself a writer in need of a book deal (but I need to shut up and get my proposal together, coming…I swear), and a spiffy brownstone in Brooklyn. Oh, and silly things like health insurance (with a job that won’t cause me to need it for rehab).

But yes, I’ll be on the program tonight between 8-9 pm EST. If you’re on West Coast time, it’s two days ago.

People are learning I’m alive. What a reason to jig, get it big.

OK, with that said next topic.

I wrote a piece for Aol News about the “ebonics” translator. I think the title is silly, but I find the criticism even sillier. It seems the DEA is being practical versus political. If you’d like to read why I feel that way, click here.

Last and certainly not least, I hope you have rocked the boat, worked the middle and changed positions in honor of the late Aaliyah.

Yes, some people are fans come lately, no, she wasn’t an opera singer but why do people feel the need to say this every single year?

She was talented, beautiful, and most of all, seemed genuine. And she kept her business to herself — a lot art in entertainment if there ever were one.

Her last album was so well put together and it’s unfortunate we didn’t get to hear more from her.

In hindsight, maybe last year I was bit too harsh on Ciara. I don’t take anything I said back as I still believe the direction she chose to go in was ill advised and your lack of monetary support to her recent creative efforts proves it. But you know, maybe I could’ve been a wee bit nicer in how I articulated the fact that Ciara was heading down a road to irrelevant island.

I have to give the girl some credit, though, she’s really trying to do whatever it takes to regain her momentum.

People have been picking a part how “gay” so many of the current dances look for years now.

In a perfect world, those who feel that silly dances are more potent than DNA in determining one’s sexuality would ultimately change their minds. Or at the very least, fall off into the abyss with the other morons who serve as daily reminders of why the phrase, “Swallow more” should become America’s favorite new catch phrase.

But, obviously we don’t live in a perfect world so my eyes are still marred by dimwitted musings like the following:

THAT f***ING DANCE LOOK LIKE A f*gGOTT DANCE,, I KEEP TRYING TO TELL n*ggaS THAT s*** IS SOME f*gGOT SHHITTTT,,,HANDS ON HIP LIKE A f***ING WOMEN WTF

As I explained last week, after my most recent Aol News piece on the Tea Party and racism went live, I got the typical flooding of my inbox from conservatives who swear I was going to lead the Black revolution to the sounds of a President Obama speech over a Nitti beat.

But, tucked away in my junk mail folder was an invitation from a conservative radio host by the name of Rusty Humphries who read my column and invited me to speak about my piece on his show. He swore that it was not a “gotcha” interview, but given the record of some of his colleagues, I was suspicious.

Thankfully, the incredibly wonderful and talented author, Mitzi Miller, encouraged me to do the interview. I’m glad I listened to her. Though we didn’t agree on much, Rusty was kind and allowed me to speak my piece in peace. I didn’t know it would be five million people (who likely won’t agree with me) were listening, but it beats screaming at the raggedy (when I was there) CVS on Georgia Avenue.

In the past some opportunities for me to do press about my work were suggested, but never came to fruition. So this is me breaking my virginity. I don’t think I sound like a babbling idiot so I consider this a win. Now, if you think at any point I sound like Soulja Boy raps, let me know and I’ll strip for a speech coach by next Friday.

In the meantime, if you want to hear me you can check out the link below:

After word let out that BET might have banned Ciara’s video for her first single, “Ride,” many a stan and contrarian for convenience was ready to stage a twirk off right in the front of Debra Lee’s house in protest. How dare BET refuse to air Ciara kegel instructional video?! Such a move was considered a harsh stance against Ciara’s creative freedom.

The common argument was, “Well, BET shows every damn thing else?! Why not Ciara’s video in which she teaches us the art of humping?”

That fear being Ciara’s video would find its way onto the eyes of the young and impressionable. It’s not Ciara’s responsibility to be somebody’s parent. Also, as unpopular a sentiment as this is, I have to say that a child singing inappropriate lyrics or doing certain dances that puts fear in the heart of Chris Hansen doesn’t necessarily mean she will grow up to be Kat Stacks.